


someone gets hurt (and sometimes it's you)

by eyes_like_a_miracle



Category: Soulbound - Fate's Hand (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Lyre is Her Own Warning, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s), am i ever writing from lyre's perspective again? absolutely not, i had to make an entire playlist to write this OTL, is this at all canon compliant? probably not, is this out of character for her? probably, might write a pt 2 from flints pov later if i lose my mind entirely, the lyre hate train will never stop and i will remain here until the day i die, these tags make it sound so much worse than it really is, written waaaaaaaaaaaay before we get anything canon of her lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyes_like_a_miracle/pseuds/eyes_like_a_miracle
Summary: There is very little Lyre despises more than being bored.
Relationships: Flint/Roylin Riptide, Past Flint/Lyre
Kudos: 1





	someone gets hurt (and sometimes it's you)

Lyre was bored. It wasn’t something that happened often, not with the way she was almost always surrounded by people who relied on and adored her, and that was how she liked it. There were very few things Lyre hated more than being bored. As far as she was concerned, she should never _have_ to be bored. There was always a man to wrap around her finger and string along like a puppet, or some shiny new store to scope out for which employees were most gullible, or some drama in her social circle to watch – and if there wasn’t, she could always create some. But today, her phone was obnoxiously silent; no one was responding to any of her texts, and those who did only said they were busy. She’d gone to the mall, content for a while to charm underpaid employees into giving her what she wanted for free when she could and stealing it when she couldn’t, but there was only so long that could keep her entertained, so two hours later, Lyre found herself incredibly, horrifically _bored,_ and it was starting to annoy her.

She leaned against the wall outside the shop she’d just scammed, the weight of new earrings in the pocket of her jacket not near as satisfying as usual, and checked her phone again. _Ugh._ Still nothing. With a huff, Lyre put her phone away and glanced around. The mall was fairly crowded, courtesy of it being one in the afternoon on a Saturday, so there was bound to be _someone_ interesting here. It was mostly families, the shrieks of children bouncing shrilly off the walls despite the cacophony of adult voices that far outnumbered them. A kiosk selling glass trinkets was a little to her right, though most people were bypassing it and the one selling some overpriced phone cases on her other side on their way to the food court down the hall to Lyre’s left. She watched the crowd for a while, clenching and unclenching her jaw in a semi-successful effort not to grind her teeth as her frustration grew. Lyre was just about to give up and leave when a flash of familiar read from near the glasswork kiosk caught her eye. Curiosity thoroughly piqued, she took a couple steps sideways so she could get a better look through the crowd. Sure enough, Flint was standing by the kiosk, looking at a figurine of a phoenix that had little gold flecks that shone so brightly in the shitty florescent lighting Lyre could see them from a distance suspended inside the red and orange glass. His hair was down, for once, and he had apparently been letting it grow out; there was much more black in his hair than she remembered. The interesting thing, though, was the blond man who had an arm wrapped around Flint’s waist in a manner that was distinctly more than _just_ friendly. As she watched, the blond leaned over and muttered something to Flint that made him laugh. Lyre’s lips curled into a smile.

Now _this_ was interesting.

Lyre had dated Flint for a couple years a while back, and she would admit she had enjoyed herself. He’d been fun – it wasn’t often that her dates would steal with her, much less actually be good at it – and he’d been so completely head over heels for her that all she’d had to do to get something from him was look at him just right and ask him for it. Flint had been easy to toy with, and it had been fun for a while, but then he’d started to get serious to the point of proposing and the appeal had been lost. So she’d ghosted him and had Cypher give Flint the engagement ring back, then proceeded to avoid him for the next several years. Well, she’d intended to actively avoid him for a few months and then just go back to acting normal, but it had been surprisingly easy to disappear from his life entirely. Apparently, Flint had blown up at Cypher when he’d tried to give the ring back like Lyre had asked, landed him in the hospital without even giving him the chance to explain _why_ he’d had the ring, and immediately gone into some sort of depressive spiral that led to Flint not leaving his apartment barely at all for nearly six months. It had been gratifying at the time, to know that she’d had that much effect on him. After that, he’d been even more of a recluse than before, and eventually he’d just faded out of Lyre’s awareness. With a grin, Lyre pushed off the wall and began to weave her way through the crowd to the kiosk. It was time to see if she still did.

She circled around to stand on the other side of the kiosk from Flint, so that she would be just barely visible through the display of wind chimes hung from the top of the stand. Now that she was closer, Lyre could see some of the smaller things that had changed in the years since she’d seen him last. The bags under his eyes were darker, but he seemed more relaxed overall than she remembered him being. There were several bandages on his hands, all of them brightly coloured and at odds with the rest of his all-black wardrobe. She had to duck her head to hide the grin she couldn’t stop when she noticed the tattoo she’d given him still clear as day on the side of his neck. He was wearing a lip ring still, too, but it was a new one that looked black for the most part but shone ever so slightly red when it caught the light right.

Flint and the blond man were talking to the man running the kiosk, so Lyre took the opportunity to situate herself so she would catch Flint’s eye by what he’d call accident. She pretended to look at the figurines laid out on the table in front of her, idly turning them over in her hands while she listened for a break in Flint’s conversation. He apparently knew the man running the kiosk – Adrian, if she was hearing that right – which was interesting. Flint hadn’t had many friends when he’d met Lyre, and she’d been the one to introduce him to Cypher. It was one of the things she’d liked most about Flint: he’d relied on her so much, and it had been exhilarating. It was odd to see him having a conversation with someone she’d never seen, but she supposed that was to be expected after as long as it had been since she’d seen him last. Maybe Adrian was the new Cypher, though; after all, Flint had gone and found another blond to idolize, apparently. It wasn’t entirely improbable that his rebound to a knock-off Lyre would have included some bargain bin version of the best friend he’d cut all ties to. Then again, maybe nod – Mystery Blond’s grip on Flint wasn’t nearly right enough to be keeping Flint in check like Lyre had almost done. It made sense, she supposed. There was no way some bleach-blond twink in black nail polish and a purple crop top with so much glitter it was nearly blinding could ever compete with her.

Finally, Flint finished his conversation, and Adrian started to pack away the phoenix figurine Flint had been looking at into a little box full of tissue paper. Lyre schooled her expression into one of sweet, oblivious curiosity as she picked up one of the statuettes – this one of some sort of vicious-looking mermaid – and turned to Adrian, looking up at him through her eyelashes with wide, innocent eyes.

“Excuse me, how much does this cost?” Lyre asked Adrian, just a little louder than entirely necessary, adding the slight undercurrent of a purr into her voice like she always did when she was trying to scam someone. That was more out of habit than anything, though; she was less interesting in the figurine and more interested in Flint. She had to repress a smile when she watched him tense visibly out of the corner of her eye. “It’s absolutely stunning.”

The word choice had been intentional. It had been Flint’s favourite thing to call her and, if the way he spun to face her was any indication, he hadn’t missed it. She could hear the other man murmuring to Flint, calling him ‘darling’ in a tone laced with concern, but she kept her eyes firmly on Adrian. It was best to let Flint approach her, to make him think it was his idea rather than something she’d planned.

“Um, thank you,” Adrian started, smiling politely even as his eyes betrayed his confusion. “The, uh, the price tag’s on the bottom, though.”

She laughed as if she was embarrassed and turned the statuette upside down. She wasn’t paying attention to the price; the way she could almost physically feel Flint’s eyes burning a hole into the side of her head was much more interesting. Careful not to let her gaze lift back up to Flint, Lyre turned to set the figurine back down, making sure Flint would get a good look at her face as she did. Just a little longer and –

“Lyre?”

She hid her smile behind her hair. _There it is._ For a split second, Lyre contemplated pretending she hadn’t heard him, but decided against it. She didn’t want to risk him thinking he’d been mistaken and just leaving. This was too good a chance to waste like that. Instead, she arranged her features into something between confusion and surprise as she looked up and finally met Flint’s gaze. His eyes were wide, and she could see every emotion he felt flicker across his face in rapid succession: confusion, surprise, hurt, and just a little bit of fear. It was exhilarating. She’d forgotten how easy it was to read Flint once she knew what to look for, even though he thought he was such a master at hiding his emotions. She stared at him for a couple seconds, pretending to be surprised, then smiled and patted her eyelashes playfully at him.

“Flint! It’s so nice to see you,” she chirped, stepping around the kiosk toward Flint. He didn’t move; he just stared. Hm. Fair enough, she supposed. “How have you been?”

As she got within arm’s reach of him, Flint pressed himself back a bit into the blond man, who draped an arm almost protectively around Flint’s shoulders. “Lyre, what – _how_ – what are you doing here?”

God, she’d forgotten how cute it was when he tripped over his words like that. “You know I like to shop here, Flint.” Lyre toyed with the end of her braid and let her tone go slightly colder, just enough to make sure he picked up on it. “You’re being very rude, you know. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend here?”

Flint swallowed visibly and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess. Roylin, this is Lyre; Lyre, this is my boyfriend, Roylin Riptide.”

 _Not for long,_ Lyre thought as she turned her smile to Roylin. He’d learn to hold on a little tighter to people in the future once Lyre was finished with Flint. If he was this affected just by seeing her, convincing him to ditch Roylin for her would be no trouble at all.

“It’s great to meet you, Roylin!” Lyre said, beaming even as she let the faintest hint of venom creep into her voice and offered her hand for Roylin to shake.

He didn’t take it. He did, however, return her smile, his eyes narrowing just enough to let her know he hadn’t missed her shift in tone. “You can call me Riptide,” he replied, “and the pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

Lyre knew she hadn’t imagined the sharp edge to his voice. She didn’t miss the nervous look in Flint’s eyes as he glanced between her and Riptide, either. Curiosity coiled in Lyre’s chest. What had Flint said about her? She wondered if there was anyone other than Riptide who would know. God, this was _infinitely_ better than being bored. She took another couple steps forward and wrapped her hand around Flint’s, tilting her head down slightly to look at him through her eyelashes. He tensed at her touch, so she leaned even closer, just to see how much she could wind him up. She could feel Riptide’s glare and Flint’s uneasiness like physical forces, and her smile widened a little. This was half the fun: watching people squirm before they gave her what she wanted.

“We should catch up! It’s been so long, after all; I want to know _everything._ Why don’t we go find somewhere more private to talk?” Lyre kept her voice bright and lighthearted, but let her fingers curl just enough to press the tips of her nails into his hand. It was muscle memory, after as long as she and Flint had spent together, to apply just enough pressure to hurt without breaking skin. The fact that he didn’t even flinch was impressive. Old habits died heard, she supposed, not that she was complaining. She’d always liked that Flint was such a fast learner.

“I’m in the middle of a _date_ right now, Lyre.” Oh, she’d missed this game. He was refusing, technically, but he wouldn’t look her in the eyes and his voice was unsteady in the way that meant she just had to push a little harder before he’d break.

Pushing her lower lip out into a pout she knew was both incredibly attractive and incredibly convincing, Lyre ran her fingers of her free hand teasingly along the inside of the arm she was holding. “Oh, come on, Flint,” she hummed, slipping a bit of a purr into her voice. “You see him all the time, I’m sure. I just want to talk. Please? For old time’s sake?”

Flint tugged his arm away from her; she let go without putting up a proper fight. He tucked the arm she’d been holding against his chest and took several steps back, taking Riptide with him. She just flashed him her most dazzling smile. He got so skittish sometimes. Luckily, all she had to do when he got like this was wait and he’d come back to her eventually. He always did.

He shot a look at her, then at Riptide, who leaned down to mutter something to Flint that was too quiet for Lyre to hear. She took the opportunity to check her phone while Flint and Riptide talked in hushed tones. One of the men she’d texted earlier out of boredom had replied finally to say he was free now, and there were a couple new messages from her gossip-inclined friends about some dramatic mess that was apparently starting. She left them all on read, double-checked her makeup in the dark screen, and then tucked her phone back into her pocket. They could wait for a while. She had found something _much_ more interesting to do.

After a moment, Riptide pressed a kiss to Flint’s temple and said, loud enough for Lyre to finally hear it, “If you’re sure, darling. Just be careful, yeah?”

Lyre got the feeling she’d been meant to hear that part. It was funny, almost, that Riptide thought he could intimidate her. Flint laced his fingers with Riptides and turned back to Lyre, looking a little more settled but still wary. Anticipation flowered in her chest. She’d always loved a good challenge.

“Alright,” Flint sighed, his town halfway to resigned. “We can talk. But only for a few minutes.”

Lyre beamed. That was fine. A few minutes was all it would take once she got him alone, she was sure. It might take some convincing, but Flint had never denied her anything in the end, and Lyre was sure there was no way he’d be able to do so now. Flint and Riptide turned and headed for the food court, so Lyre followed, quickly hooking an arm through Flint’s and putting him square in between herself and Riptide. The other two kept talking to each other under their breath, too quietly for Lyre to hear. The way Riptide kept shooting nasty looks her way gave her some indication of what they were talking about, but she was content to flounce along beside Flint and feign bubbly ignorance. It didn’t matter what Riptide thought, anyway. He’d be irrelevant soon, if Lyre got her way, and she always did.

They stopped at the edge of the food court, and Flint pulled his arm from Lyre’s grip to turn and face Riptide. “I’m going to go outside for a minute, and Lyre and I will talk,” he said, half-sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “Where do you want me to meet you when I come back in?”

“I’ll text you where I sit down once I get the food,” Roylin hummed. “Do you want anything in particular?”

Flint shook his head. “Surprise me. You know what I like.” He wasn’t facing Lyre, but she could hear the fondness in his voice.”

“You know it.” Riptide grinned, pulled Flint into a quick kiss, then threw an unnecessarily exaggerated wink over his shoulder as he left.

Flint watched Riptide disappear into the crowd with the most ridiculous smile Lyre had ever seen on his face. She rolled her eyes to herself. Infatuation wasn’t a good look on Flint. Even in the early stages of their relationship, when he’d looked at her like that instead of with the quieter awe and respect he’d shown later on, it had gotten annoying quickly. Lyre grabbed Flint’s arm again, this time with both hands, and didn’t let go this time when he startled and tried to pull away. He looked at her, jaw tensing briefly, but in the end apparently decided against whatever words he’d swallowed and just headed toward the nearest exit. Lyre couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

Although the parking lot was packed, there was no one outside, though Lyre suspected that had something to do with both the fact that this was the back of the building and that the late-fall air was cold enough for their breath to mist in front of them. She wasn’t about to complain, though; it just meant there were fewer people who could potentially interrupt. Lyre had never liked being distracted in the middle of things, especially by complete strangers, so she was glad she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Briefly, Lyre was confused when Flint headed toward the designated smoking area instead of asking where her car was, but decided to just go with it for the time being. Besides, the smoking area was more secluded – maybe that was his plan. Well, she could understand that much, at least. But when they got there, all he did was lean back against a wall and pull a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Lyre was starting to get frustrated. Flint _obviously_ still wanted her – who wouldn’t? – but he wasn’t _doing_ anything about it. Well, fine. She’d just make the first move, then. Flint always had needed a bit of extra prompting when it came to things like this. Lyre curled her fingers over Flint’s where he was holding the cigarettes and pressed herself against him until they were nearly nose to nose. Flint was tense, his arms braced where they were pinned between their chests as if he was trying to keep her away, but she ignored it. He always relaxed eventually. Flint said something – or tried to, anyway; he was tripping over his words again – but Lyre ignored that too and leaned in to kiss him.

Flint jerked his head back so fast that it hit the wall behind him with an audible thud. He winced and swore under his breath, but still twisted his hands in Lyre’s grasp and get enough leverage to push her back a couple steps almost immediately. His expression was one she’d never seen on him before, somewhere between fear and revulsion. Lyre grit her teeth for a moment, thoroughly irked and quickly tiring of his theatrics, but pulled her expression into an innocently confused smile. She let a bit of the acid dripping into her bloodstream shine through, though, as a silent reminder to Flint of what happened when she got tired of playing these games. She didn’t like surprises, especially when there was no good reason for them, and Lyre could not imagine a good reason for Flint to be turning her down.

“When I said we could talk,” Flint started, his voice tense with an emotion Lyre didn’t care enough about to try to interpret, “that’s all I meant. We can talk if you want, but I’m not – I’m not doing that shit again, Lyre. We’re not together anymore, and I’m not breaking up with Roylin to get back with you.”

He still wouldn’t look at her directly, even when she released her grip on his hands. Silence stretched between them, tense and uncomfortable. Lyre crossed her arms. Flint fumbled in his pocket and produced a lighter.

“I don’t understand,” Lyre said after a beat, filling her voice with faux hurt so that her anger wouldn’t show through. “I thought you loved me, Flint. Were you lying to me? You promised you’d love me forever.”

Flint sighed. “Of course I wasn’t lying,” he muttered. He made a valiant effort to light his cigarette, but his hands were visibly shaking to the point that the lighter was barely functioning. “But that was years ago, Lyre; you can’t expect me to up and leave with you just like that.”

Lyre didn’t see why not. What did Flint have to leave behind? His downgrade of a rebound relationship? As if. Maybe he just wanted her to prove she still loved him or something equally stupid and sappy. Forcing the annoyance from her expression, Lyre stepped forward again. Not quite as close as before, though; she didn’t want Flint to push her away again. He flinched when she reached for his neck, but there was nowhere for him to go. With a sweet smile, Lyre traced the curve of the tattoo on the side of his neck with her fingertips. She could feel his pulse rabbiting beneath her fingers, stuttering and tripping over itself every time she let a nail scrape against his skin. The ink was faded, after so many years, but the shape of the _L_ was still perfectly clear. Satisfied, Lyre hummed to herself. If he’d been serious about moving on, he would have gotten it covered up or removed, but he hadn’t. He’d kept her with him.

“Come on, Flint, just relax.” Keeping her voice low, she brought her other hand up as well and curled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, careful not to pull on any of it quite yet but making sure she had a decent grip on it nonetheless. “I’ve missed you, y’know. It’s been so lonely without you. We can get out of here and –”

“Lyre, I said _no.”_

This time Flint didn’t bother pushing her away; instead, he just stepped to the side and moved so she was between him and the wall. Doing so made her fingers catch in his hair, but he didn’t even pause; Lyre was left with strands of his hair still coiled around her fingers and quite a bit of confusion. He gave up on the lighter and shoved both it and the unlit cigarette into his pockets and watched her cautiously from a distance that was definitely more than arms’ length. He looked like a caged animal: tense, wary, very much on the defensive. It was such a different from the borderline-worshipful way he’d looked at her while they were together that it almost stunned her.

“I’m not –” Flint’s voice broke, and he looked away from her again. “I’m _not_ going anywhere with you. If you still want to be friends, fine, but I’m happy with Roylin and I’m not giving that up.”

Lyre couldn’t keep the sneer out of her voice or off her face. “I don’t see why not. I mean, it really isn’t that difficult, so why –”

“Because I’m not _you,_ Lyre!” It wasn’t quite a shout, but Flint’s voice was loud enough to echo across the parking lot. “I don’t just drop people without any sort of fucking warning, and certainly not without damn good reason, because I have a soul, for one, and because I know firsthand how much that shit hurts.”

It took every ounce of Lyre’s self-control not to roll her eyes. “Are you still hung up on that? I came back eventually, didn’t I, so just get over it already. It’s just water under the bridge.”

Flint’s expression turned incredulous. “Are you fucking serious? Not only did you _disappear_ for literal years after I proposed, but Cypher showed up a few days after you go silent with _this_ –” he tugged at the leather cord around his neck, revealing a familiar gold ring strung on it that had been tucked away beneath his shirt “– and no explanation at all. That isn’t something people can just ‘get over,’ Lyre.”

This time, Lyre did roll her eyes. “But I came _back,”_ she repeated. Had he missed that little detail? “It shouldn’t matter anymore. You’re just being dramatic.”

“It took you _years_ to even talk to me again.” Flint pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, the sound exasperated and exhausted. “Just – why? I thought you were _dead._ Why didn’t you tell me you needed space, or whatever, or at least answer the damn door when I came looking for you?”

Lyre remembered that. She had sat just inside the door, texting one of her more like-minded friends at the time about it as she’d listened to Flint slowly break down on the other side of the door. It had been endearing, at the time, that he’d cared so much. It had almost been convincing enough to get her to open the door. Almost.

“I just thought our relationship could use a little extra excitement,” she frowned. “I was planning on coming back sooner, but I just got busy.” That last part was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

Flint looked like she’d hit him, which was just ridiculous. She had never hit him in a public place before, and she certainly wasn’t planning on starting now. “You decided,” he said slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, “that our relationship wasn’t exciting enough for you, and your solution was to just up and leave.”

It was less of a question and more of a statement. Lyre just huffed and dropped all pretense of trying to play nice. If she had to remind Flint that he belonged at her side the hard way, then so be it. “It’s not my fault you’re boring,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “You can’t blame me for wanting a change of pace.”

“A change of –” Flint stopped mid-sentence and stared at her, searching her face for something. Whatever it was he wanted, he must not have found it, because his own expression shuttered and his shoulders slumped. “You know what, no.” He shook his head. The ring glittered against his shirt, almost taunting. “No. I’m not doing this. Until you can recognize why what you just said was fucked up and apologize for it – and _mean it_ – like a normal person just… leave me alone.”

Lyre couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment. Apparently, the last few years had taken more of a toll on Flint than she’d expected. This wasn’t the man who’d been in love with her. When she didn’t say anything, he just shook his head again and turned to leave. She caught his wrist, digging her heels in to keep him from going anywhere. He didn’t look back at you, but he tried to pull away. She didn’t let him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” she hissed, not bothering to keep her grip from being anything but bruising. “This isn’t fucking over.”

“Yes, it is.” Flint’s voice was too calm, and it only made her angrier. “It’s been over for a long time, and you’re the one who ended it.”

This time, he did manage to pull his wrist from her grasp, though her nails dug into his skin in the process. Flint just stuffed his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. As a last-ditch attempt to save what should have been a much simpler conversation, Lyre poured every ounce of sweetness and softness and subtle sadness as she could muster into her next words.

“I love you, you know. I thought you loved me, too.”

Flint paused again, though this time he glanced over his shoulder at her. There was something sad about his expression, but there was also acceptance in his eyes. He had already come to terms with this. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “I did.”

He didn’t stop again, even when she called his name and demanded they finish their conversation. Lyre was left standing in the cold, her breath dancing in the air, staring at the doors he’d disappeared through and wondering how she’d gotten there.


End file.
